


Disassemble

by kaesaria



Series: Shiny New Kinks [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Restraints, Sexy-Suave Steve, Smut, Tied-Up Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaesaria/pseuds/kaesaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I’ll take you apart</i>, Steve says.  Tony doesn't believe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disassemble

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Cap/Iron Man Tiny Reverse Bang (Round 4: [Disassemble](http://capim-tinybang.tumblr.com/)). Please check out [dksartz's](http://capim-tinybang.tumblr.com/post/147137409640/cap-im-tiny-rb-round-4-disassemble-and-director) lovely art!
> 
> What can I say? I see Tony tied to chair and Steve smirking down at him—makes no matter how much clothing they both have on—and of course this is where my dirty mind goes. ;))

_Take off your shoes and jacket_ , Steve says.  Tony does.

 _Sit on the chair.  Hands behind your back_.  Tony obeys.

Steve slides his eyes over Tony’s body, assessing.  His gaze pauses at the hollow of Tony’s throat, at the line of his collarbone, before skimming down his chest.  Tony ducks his head to hide a smile as Steve’s eyes linger again, dark, hungry, at the inseam of Tony’s pants.

Tony slides his legs apart, invitingly.

The concrete floor is cool against the bare soles of his feet; it’s exhilarating.  He keeps his hands clasped tight behind the high back of the chair.  This is going to be _fun_.

Tony can feel the heat emanating from Steve’s big body as he moves out of view, steps around behind the chair.  Then—there’s something at Tony’s wrists.  Steve’s fingers, deft, and—rope, Tony realizes, after a second, shocked.  He lets out a low breath as he feels the careful wind of it around one wrist, then the other.  A sharp tug, and his wrists draw together.

Steve comes into view again and Tony pulls at the ties, testing.  They don’t budge.  A thrill runs through Tony at the thought—he’s caught now, captured.  Captivated.

The feeling intensifies when Steve drops to his knees in front of him, when Steve starts to wrap more rope around Tony’s right ankle.  Steve pushes up the hem of his pant leg, and the smooth line of cord is against Tony’s skin.

A pause, then the hard press of a kiss on the inside of his knee.  It’s wet and insistent; Tony can feel it even through the fabric of his pants.  Steve reaches for the other ankle. 

Tony’s hips shift, minutely, unconsciously, as the relentless rope binds his last free limb to the chair.

When Steve stands up, Tony’s eyes follow him.  His whole body strains against the bindings, reflexive.  He can’t move.  He can’t get away.  His chest, his neck, his ears feel hot.  He can hear himself panting, softly, as his eyes lock onto Steve’s. 

Tony licks his lips.  He opens his mouth—

 _No_ , Steve says.  He quirks up an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth.  _No talking_.  He reaches with a fingertip, traces the line of Tony’s lower lip, soft like a feather. 

 _Say a word—and everything stops._  

Now Steve’s fingers are resting against Tony’s jaw, the side of his neck, lightly—they move with the shift of Tony’s throat.  He slides his thumb up to press against the edge of Tony’s mouth; Tony lets it in, obligingly, obediently.

 _Understand?_  

Tony sucks the finger in his mouth, slides his tongue over it, around it.  He looks up.  Steve’s eyes are blown to black, ringed with a sliver of searing blue.  Tony feels an answering heat pool in his belly.

Tony swallows.  He nods.  

Steve smiles, slow.

When Steve pulls back, his finger slips out of Tony’s mouth.  It leaves a tendril of wet at the corner of Tony’s mouth, sliding down his jaw—slick and filthy.  Tony can’t wipe it away.  His wrists are bound, immobile behind him; he’s—helpless.

Tony licks his lips.  The heat pools lower.

~

Steve slides the zipper down his jacket.  He isn’t wearing anything underneath.

The soft black leather parts to reveal wide expanses of skin stretched over carved, conditioned muscle. 

Tony feels his hips jerk again, feels the rope dig into his wrists.

Steve shrugs the jacket off his massive shoulders and runs one palm down his chest, his belly, slow.  His head is ducked down; his gaze follows the movement of his own hand.  When his fingers reach the low waistband of his pants, Steve flicks a glance at Tony.  Sinful blue eyes glint up through thick, golden lashes.  There’s a shadow of smirk sliding across his face. 

Tony growls, pulls at the ropes again.  He’s—defenseless

Steve is merciless.

~

Steve slides his pants down his hips.  He isn’t wearing anything underneath.

The soft grey wool puddles at Steve’s feet.  He steps out of them, toes off his shoes in a smooth, practiced move.

Tony’s mouth goes dry as his eyes lock onto Steve’s cock.  It’s hard—straining, already wet at the tip.  Tony feels a shudder go though him, feels his own dick twitch and leak.  He groans, just a bit; he runs his eyes up Steve’s stunning (perfect, engineered) body.

Steve is naked now.  He’s laid bare, all gorgeous, gleaming skin and breath-taking lines and curves and bulging muscles.  But Tony’s the one who feels… exposed, enticingly _on display_ , even though he’s still fully clothed.  His hips shift again, frantic, futile, against the constraining fabric of his pants.

Steve pulls up his hand, opens his mouth to lick.  Steve’s tongue glistens; it slides smooth and slick between his fingers. 

Tony groans again—louder, this time.  His cock jerks again, helplessly.  The heat is all over his body now, it’s flowing and ebbing in relentless waves.

Steve slides wet fingers down his chest.  They rub softly over the tight peak of a nipple, and Steve opens his mouth to pant.  He keeps his eyes fixed on Tony’s face as he tweaks—once, and again. 

Tony can see the shudders run through Steve’s body; he can see the way Steve’s cock jerks and twitches with the pleasure.  Tony’s own breaths are harsh, heaving, loud enough to drown out Steve’s, by now.  His mouth opens again, unconscious, unbidden, and—

Steve—stops.  He lowers his chin, raises an eyebrow, sharp, amused. 

 _Are we done already?_ Steve’s eyes are glinting, gleeful.

Tony snaps his mouth shut.  He bites his lips, bites back a whimper.

~

Steve lowers himself to the floor, sensuous, slow, until he’s settled on his knees between Tony’s spread legs.

 _Watch_ , he says, and Tony is riveted.  His eyes follow the wet gleam of Steve’s hand as it wraps around that perfect cock, as it starts to stroke.  Steve’s head falls back; his mouth falls open.  He smiles, blissful, beautiful, as he jerks his cock while keeping hooded eyes locked on Tony’s face.

There are low, rhythmic, keening sounds in the air now; they match the cadence of Tony’s breathing.  The sounds are coming from _him_ , Tony realizes distantly. 

He—doesn’t care.

Tony’s hips are thrusting into empty air in time with Steve’s hand.  There’s no _friction_ though, no slide of skin against skin.  His pants are constricting, contracting—but they’re moving with Tony’s body, gallingly, appallingly.  Tony’s mouth is parted, panting; his eyes are locked on Steve’s cock, his hand, on his rippling body. 

The ropes are cutting into Tony’s wrists, digging into his ankles as he writhes, pulls—but it’s not enough, Jesus, it’s not enough—

 _Watch_ , Steve orders, gasps.  He strokes himself from stem to stern, once, and again, and—

 _Tony—God, yes._ Steve’s body seizes, his eyes flutter shut as his body jerks.

Tony whines, low in his throat.  It’s a frantic sound, desperate, despairing.

Tony doesn’t care.

~

It’s—after, and Steve is still kneeling in front of him, naked and gorgeous and glorious like a wet dream.  His body is loose, languid with release; his right hand is still wrapped around his cock.  There’s come smeared between his fingers; filthy and beautiful.

Tony whines, twists his hips, pulls at his bindings, and—Steve looks up.  His face is soft, satisfied, sated.  He laughs, ducks his head when he sees Tony’s face.

 _Well, well_ , he says, and Tony whimpers. 

Steve’s huge hand lands on Tony’s thigh, slides up his leg.  It’s still soiled, slick with Steve’s pleasure, and Tony groans.  He wants—he _wants_.

 _Believe me now?_   Tony presses his lips together, whines again—a low, pathetic sound.  Steve takes pity.

Steve’s hand reaches Tony’s straining cock (finally, _finally_ ); his eyes go dark.  Steve presses his palm— _God, just there_ —and rubs once, and again. 

Tony’s hips thrust up—it’s futile, fruitless; he can’t _move_ , it’s not enough, there’s no space, there’s no _give_ , and—

 _Now_ , Steve says, smiles.  His hand grinds down.

Tony throws back his head, his muscles strain, the rope digs into his wrists, his ankles.  The chair shudders against the floor and Tony gasps, gasps. 

Tony sees red, and white, and stars.  Tony curls in, his shoulders scream as they pull against the unyielding wood of the chair, but he doesn’t care—it’s good, _Jesus it’s so good_.  Tony groans, low, guttural, rips open his eyes.

He sees blue—beautiful blue eyes coming close, then closer.  Insistent lips press against his.

“Yes,” Tony gasps into Steve’s delicious, devouring mouth, “Fuck, yes.”

~

 _I’ll take you apart_ , Steve had said.

Tony hadn’t believed him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also using this to fill the Bets/Wagers box on my Trope bingo card.
> 
> All feedback is hugely appreciated. You can also discuss this story (or anything else) with me on [Tumblr](http://kaesaria.tumblr.com/). **(ETA: And now also on Imzy.[Come play with me!](https://www.imzy.com/kaesaria))**


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